


For Better or Worse

by MariaPriest



Series: S&H Blue Stamps - S1 [8]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Episode: S01e08 Pariah, Friendship/Love, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 06:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPriest/pseuds/MariaPriest
Summary: Still at a loss for a suspect in the cop shootings, Starsky tries to shut Hutch out of his life.





	For Better or Worse

“Starsk, when was the last time you ate anything?”

Starsky sighed, still avoiding eye contact with Hutch. “Don't know. Not important.”

Hutch, having angled himself halfway across the front seat of the Torino, blew out a breath of frustration strong enough to ruffle Starsky's hair. “Listen, partner. I know Tinker and Forest's deaths are weighing heavily on your good heart—and mine, too, and every other cop in this city—but it's not your fault. Besides, I need you at your best. And for you, that includes calories. Lots of 'em. Now, whatta ya say we go to Huggy's?”

Starsky knew exactly what Hutch was trying to do: get him out of his own head, replace, at least temporarily, his grief and guilt with food and the companionship of his best friend and his oldest friend. _Ain't gonna work._ He shook his head.

“Okay, not Huggy's. How about that place on Broadway you mentioned a little while back? The one you said had chili hot enough to make your ears smoke.”

_ So you can ditch me again? _ He laughed to himself when he realized they were together in the same car this time. “Not hungry, Hutch. 'Sides, not up to conversation either. I just wanna go home.” He finally looked at Hutch, nothing but empathy in his brilliant and sad blue eyes. “_Alone_.” He knew his face showed how dispirited, how impotent, he felt, and that it must be hurting Hutch to see him that way because of the connection they shared.

On a dime, Hutch, wielding that right index finger of his like a scepter, changed from supportive to almost royally imperious. “Snap out of it, Starsky. You have to stop blaming yourself. Whoever's doing this, this terrible thing is a nut job of the first degree and you were just unlucky to become the focus of his, I don't know, delusions.”

Starsky opened his mouth to respond, but Hutch glared at him, wordlessly telling him to shut up and listen.

“You need to eat, Starsky. You can barely walk straight. How are you supposed to watch my back out here if you don't have the energy to even draw your weapon, huh?”

The anger that had been smoldering in his belly at the perverted psycho and his heartless, misplaced rage flared up like a backdraft. “Then get the hell away from me, okay?” he shouted.

“_What?_” Starsky heard incredulity and anguish in that single word. At that moment, he despised himself. And he had also finally identified that one thing that had been eating away at him quietly yet persistently, like a slow acid burning through his soul.

Starsky exhaled loudly. “You heard me. Leave.”

Hutch sat up, determination and irritation all over his face. “No,” he said, reminding Starsky of a two-year-old Nicky refusing to give up a chocolate chip cookie he'd swiped from his big brother.

“You have to, Hutch.” Starsky closed his eyes at the whine in his voice. _Talk about the pot calling the kettle..._

“I don't _have_ to do anything but pay taxes and die.”

Starsky, suddenly riled by Hutch's simple statement of fact, pounded the steering wheel with both hands several times before gripping it tightly, instantly blanching his fingers. In his peripheral vision, he saw Hutch cross his arms over his chest. As for his own chest, it felt as if a vise was constricting it.

It took Starsky a full two minutes before he could speak, and even then it was the opposite of calm. “Don't _say_ that! Don't _ever_ say that!”

“Say what, Starsk?” he said, the opposite of stormy.

Starsky had to drag in a breath against the force of his fear. Not looking at his partner, his best friend, he mumbled, barely loud enough for Hutch to hear, “Die, Hutch. Don't say it, 'kay?”

Now chancing a direct look at Hutch, Starsky was relieved to see he had softened a bit, his face broadcasting understanding.

When Hutch said nothing after a long moment, Starsky continued. “You need to leave me, Hutch, 'cause I'm... radioactive. Lethal to anyone in this city. I'm afraid...” He trailed off, unable to issue sound around the massive obstruction that had suddenly blossomed in his throat.

There was a brief silence before Hutch, his steady hand now on Starsky's trembling thigh, finished for him. “...that I'm on the maniac's hit list. And if we're not together, maybe he won't target me, because he thinks that breaking us apart would hurt you more than blowing me away.”

Starsky dropped his head forward, closed his eyes, cleared his throat to melt the clog. “And I thought I was the brains of this outfit,” he said with a shaky touch of levity he didn't really feel.

Hutch squeezed Starsky's thigh. “Starsk, look at me.”

Starsky shook his head, afraid of what he'd do when he saw his partner's trusting face, feel his faith in him. Afraid of losing it just from the thought of losing him to this twisted bastard—all because of him.

“Please?”

Against his better judgment, Starsky acquiesced. The trust and the faith were there, but so was the love. Somehow, he kept it together, tried to make his expression neutral but knowing it showed his vulnerability instead.

“Starsky, do you remember what you said on the first day of our new partnership when we were celebrating that night at Huggy's?”

“Course I do, Hutch. I told you what Pop told me when I was nine.”

“I remember, too. That a great and lasting partnership was like a marriage, that your partner was just as important, if not more so, than your wife. _Real_ partners become friends and brothers.” Hutch's eyes started to glisten.

_ Oh damn. If he starts cryin', I'll start bawlin'. _ “And then I suggested we take partnership vows.” He had made them up on the spot, still knew exactly what he said. “'We hold these truths to be self-evident. That we take each other as partners forever, to protect each other from thugs and whippos and sanctimonious IA jerks, always there for each other, for better or worse, in sickness, health, or injury, even when one of us is acting irrational or stupid.'” He paused, wondered if this could be considered a pregnant one. “Most important day of my life.”

“For me, too. I repeated them, though not word for word. I also recall being surprised you knew the word sanctimonious and had used it correctly.”

Starsky gave him an affectionate sneer. “Yeah, well, you were a little tipsy.”

“We both were. But we meant it. I still do. Do you, partner?” Hutch put a slight emphasis on the last word.

Hutch's eyes told Starsky he knew what the answer would be, but needed to hear it. That Starsky needed to hear it, too.

Starsky smiled his love and cupped his hand around the back of Hutch's neck. “Me 'n' thee, partner.”

the end

August 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Please let me know if there are any serious flaws to correct.


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